


When I'm Pins and I'm Needles

by enmity



Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Gen, gripping food with force, more gen/general vanitas than anythin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28595595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enmity/pseuds/enmity
Summary: They’re going to regret this. He’s said it out loud before, yelled it, lashing out with a mean stance and worse words, reveling at Ventus’ grimace and Terra’s irritation, the wayshe’dswept in to get between him and them, expression calm and severe in equal measure, but now, sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed with metal tray in hand, the words are little more than a frustrated whisper.
Relationships: Aqua/Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	When I'm Pins and I'm Needles

They’re going to regret this.

They’re going to regret the very second they came down to pull him out of the dark realm—nothing but a hell of barren ground and choking miasma, but at least there, it was his element. Like sticks with like, and he’d been breathing in darkness ever since he woke up to dust in his mouth and Xehanort smirking down at him, hands behind his back as he said the word “go,” and it’s a sick kind of joke, but when has his life been anything else?

Not that they’d cared about any of that, back when he was at his strongest, sneering behind the mask and Ventus’ face as he swung for the throat. The only thing worse than being underestimated is knowing the next step is pity. _Pity!_ He’d survived just fine back then and would’ve gone on to keep doing the same. Staying alive had been the first thing he learned, he didn’t need…

Vanitas rolls over on his side, a lump of uncomfortable restlessness underneath the knitted duvet. Light itches. It clings to him from all directions, a thousand dust motes of easy laughter and hands ruffling blond messy hair and good-natured ribbing at the end of a practice battle (because they wrap kiddie gloves on everything here, none of these losers ever shot to kill; he wouldn’t be surprised if he saw foam stuck to sharp corners so Terra wouldn’t bump his big stupid body into a concussion), and it’s a different kind of choking. Not the type that leaves his lungs aflame and gasping for air, his hands clutching at the ground, base survival instinct kicking in, because he’s used to that. This is different. It’s—

“Vanitas!”

“What the hell! I forgot to lock the door!” His sits up, head swiveling automatically to glare at the offending intruder, though he knows her signs well enough to catch her presence when she was in the hall. She has the skills and fancy magic to cloak herself in stealth; if she really wanted to ambush him, she should’ve tried harder. Preferably with keyblade ready in hand. He hasn’t degraded _that_ much over his stay in this land, though it’s certainly trying its best to wear him down. “Oh. It’s _you_.”

“Vanitas,” Aqua starts, voice softer this time, and he makes no effort to hide the twist of his frown, the slight bared teeth. The duvet wrinkles under his hand, all pliant fabric and feather stuffing, so soft and shreddable like everything here is. Her face doesn’t even twitch; he doesn’t know what his own face is doing, but he commands it to sneer harder. It works, sort of. “You didn’t come for dinner.”

“Yeah, well, my condolences. I’m sure I missed out on whatever dumb thing Ventus was going on about—”

“I don’t have patience for you badmouthing my friends,” she says evenly. “You know that. _I_ know that. I’m becoming resistant to your bait.”

“—I’m sure it’s positively _riveting,_ ” he hisses.

“You don’t have to do everything the hard way, you know?”

Her arms are crossed. Her stride is confident, steady. Whether it’s facing him across Radiant Garden’s central square, so long ago now, Rainfell in hand and blue eyes glaring, or, apparently, wasting her time with this. It’s almost comical. The smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, though, small and amused and positively infuriating, is new. Just one more annoyance to remember her by.

“And anyway, you need to eat. I’m sure the general principle still applies, being of darkness or not.”

_Since when were you my boss?_

It’s a tired jab. He makes to say it anyway, but Aqua takes in a breath, adding, “I won’t force you to open up if you don’t want to. I’ve left the food outside your door. You deserve that at least.” Once last glance over her shoulder, and she says, “Goodnight, Vanitas.” Her footsteps don’t echo down the hall.

Xehanort never cared whether he ate or not. It didn’t matter if he went to bed hungry or tired or plagued by terror behind his eyelids so long as he turned up to training still able to breathe and summon his keyblade. Vanitas thinks this when the growling in his stomach becomes at last too much to bear—he would’ve snuck outside to raid the cooler like every other day, but this is the easier choice.

They’re going to regret this. He’s said it out loud before, yelled it, lashing out with a mean stance and worse words, reveling at Ventus’ grimace and Terra’s irritation, the way _she’d_ swept in to get between him and them, expression calm and severe in equal measure, but now, sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed with metal tray in hand, the words are little more than a frustrated whisper.

He isn’t going to thank them, he _isn’t._ To be grateful for something means admitting it’s precious. Enough to be worth keeping, protecting, and he’s lived his life long enough without this… this _thing_ , intangible and indescribable, something so apparently trivial they saw fit to hand it out to Vanitas of all people, and he doesn't- need- it.

(a home? forgiveness? a second chance?)

But he does need to eat.

The soup is long tepid by now, and the bread's gone dry in the cool air. He splits it in half, feeling the crust crumble between thumb and index finger. He’s never had anything good in his life that had been any harder to break than that, not a single thing—and one day, with his own two hands, he’s going to prove it to them. 

**Author's Note:**

> [this was requested](https://m.curiouscat.qa/replyimg/25f176d7-5449-4386-a5f7-f23bb9f4356a.jpg) ^q^ 
> 
> for some reason the image of vanitas having a fit and way too dramatically crushing bread in his hand was too vivid (vanitas gripping food with force)


End file.
